lotus
by in cages
Summary: they are perfectly imperfect -—sasukeino


**notes** : hi hey hello i am sort of back back with a small thingy of angst. sorry not sorry.  
(i wrote this at 2am whilst being ill; excuse errors etc. also listen to daughter or of monsters & men to understand where my angst truly flows from lolz)

* * *

 **lotus**

 _i am sorry for the trouble, i suppose  
my blood runs red but my body feels so cold_

.

.

.

It isn't the first time.

He watches as she sits at her vanity, her eyes fixated on her reflection. Though she doesn't look sad, he can see the subtle — _always subtle_ — tremble of her fingers as she applies her lipstick. Her back is straight, porcelain skin marred with small, fierce lines. He doesn't know which are his and which have always been there, because he's still trying to paint her skin a shade brighter.

(but how can he do that now?)

They agree it's easier not to talk about it; she'll crawl to him when the sun is beginning to rise and he'll cum for her just before the nightmares threaten to resurface. It's okay for a while. He drowns himself in the smell of lavender and peaches — she's intoxicating in a way he's never understood, but it's always the same before it ends.

Her eyes will grow sad and his skin will burn. They'll kiss each other until the memories begin to fade, but nothing will feel quite _right._

"I'm going to his grave today."

Sasuke licks his dry lips and he props himself up on his elbows. She doesn't meet his gaze in the mirror, instead choosing to focus on pinning her hair back up into some semblance of decency. "Alone?" he asks, because this is the first time she's said anything but his name since it began.

"No," she stands up from the vanity, her body exposed to him once more. He takes her in again, admires every stretch and every mark, wonders how any human being can be so remarkably perfect and yet so—imperfect. She tugs on her skirt from the floor and buttons up her blouse, "Mum will be there. I just thought..." she trails off, meeting his eyes for the first time since she left the bed.

"Nothing, never mind," she cuts off.

He doesn't say anything else.

She finishes getting ready and opens his door. Before she leaves she fixes him with a stare, one that doesn't seem so sad any more, but rather— _scared._

Ino leaves without another word.

/

He trains every day and most evenings, mostly until his knees threaten to give way beneath him.

Sometimes Naruto will stop by and train with him, other times Sakura will watch from a tree trunk, perched silently with a book in her hand. Sometimes, when the training grounds are completely devoid, he'll see Ino from across the stream, her flaxen hair pulled tight off her face and her body tense. He often wonders how he ended up falling into bed with her most nights — he used to think she was utterly useless, a loudmouthed brain-dead idiot. But those days that pulled into weeks during the war... it changed everyone.

She lost her father; his entire clan was slaughtered by his brother, who was only ever acting for a better cause. They're nothing alike.

But he was lost and so was she.

They met half-way, a spectrum of tangled sheets and nails against flesh — he drank her up like he had been thirsty for a thousand years, and she was simply too beautiful not to admire, not to kiss and to pleasure and to find himself within her over and over. But that was all it had ever been: just two people who couldn't find their way back to reality.

Later that evening Sasuke stands behind her at the gravestone, his hands shoved deep in his trousers.

He hadn't intended to come and find her, but something about the way she had mentioned it that morning had been significant, at least, to have him thinking about it all day. She was alone now, a bouquet of flowers upon her fathers grave, and her arms limp at her side. Her hair was down, he notices, and at its full length it reaches just past her lower-back. In the dim lighting of the evening sunset, her hair is almost like a halo.

"Ino," he says quietly.

She doesn't respond.

He stands by her side and doesn't say a word until she turns to look at him, warm tears in her eyes. "I didn't think it would still hurt so much," she admits.

There's something in her eyes that is almost pleading — she trembles now, completely — and he can't stand it, so he looks away. He can feel her chakra so well now that he _feels_ the surge of emotions, the roar of anger and the swelling of sadness that almost threatens to consume her whole. He knows ( _so fucking well_ ) that he can't bare to feel it again, almost wants to fucking run away from her because it's starting to eat him alive.

But —

"If it didn't hurt you wouldn't be human," he finally answers her.

When she cries he doesn't offer her any words of half-arsed sympathy, nor does he hug her or kiss her or even talk to her. He simply stands next to her as she breaks down, because he knows that she doesn't need any of those things any more. All she wants is somebody to listen, not somebody to try and fix her.

(and she knows he needs the exact same treatment)

/

She stares down at him, hands pinned down on either side of his head, and searches his eyes. Sweat clings to her skin, her hair falling down around them like a veil — he doesn't break eye-contact with her, he scarcely even breathes.

"I want to feel alive," she whispers, her eyelids falling shut, "I want to start again."

Sasuke trails his hand up her forearm and rests it upon her cheek. He hasn't got anything to say to her because he knows that whatever he says is probably a lie, so instead he tugs her head towards him and kisses her; once softly, twice fiercely. She tastes of honey and raspberries and something so distinctly Ino and he is alive with the taste of her — if this is power then he is a weak man.

/

He watches as the pebble skims across the river, landing safely across the other side.

"Do you love her?"

Sasuke lifts his head at the question. Naruto is stood up, a pebble turning over in his palm, his mouth turned down in a frown that looks oddly unnatural on him.

"No," he says instantly and then back-peddles like an idiot, "I mean—I— _I don't know_ ," he finally snaps, feeling flustered and embarrassed and profusely irritated at the sudden question. Love seemed like such a strong word to use for what he felt for Ino. There were times when he didn't think he could live without her, but there were also times where he was loathe to even be around her.

She was utterly insane.

(but so was he)

"So, you don't love her... but you kind of do."

"No, you idiot," Sasuke responds scathingly. "At first we just fucked a lot, now we... we talk."

" _You,_ " Naruto gapes, pointing stupidly at him, " _talking?!_ "

Sasuke glares at him. "Shut up," and naturally, it doesn't work.

They spend another five minutes insulting each other and a further ten threatening to beat each other up.

Eventually they both give up because Naruto is hungry and Sasuke is annoyed, and despite how much he could do with punching Naruto's head through a brick wall, he wonders if that will even make him feel better in the long run. Instead he sits back down on a boulder and rests his chin in his palm, staring out across the river and thinking about whether or not he has accidentally fallen in love with a girl who was only ever supposed to be a phantom.

"She's not exactly the worst choice," Naruto quips after a moment of silence. He comes to stand beside Sasuke and leans against his shoulder, "I mean, she has an incredible body, she's smart, she's funny, and most of all: she can handle you at your worst _and_ your moodiest, which is more than I can say for the rest of us—"

"All right, you can be quiet now, idiot."

/

Ino is sat in front of the vanity again.

He counts the scars that line her back (five all together — two from when she was a genin; one from fighting Hidan and Kakazu; two from the war) and then stands up, slowly walking towards her. Sasuke doesn't move until her gaze slides from her reflection to his, and only then does he allow his fingertips to gently rest on her shoulder blades. He feels her inhale sharply, but he does not stop.

From her shoulder blades he traces all five scars, each of them a story that he does not know about. When he reaches the last one, he bends down and places a chaste kiss on her neck, never removing his gaze from hers.

"What're you do—"

"I want to kiss you, Ino," he says simply.

She opens her mouth to protest but he takes a hold of her wrist before she can, guiding her towards the bed. He takes great care in laying her down and climbing on top of her. Sasuke stops just above her belly button, catching a hold of her gaze, and offers her the barest of smiles. He kisses her stomach, where small cuts and a few tiny scars reside, he kisses her thighs where stretch marks mar her skin, her kisses her knees, her feet, her hands, and lastly, he kisses her mouth.

Every part of her skin he roams with his lips — he tastes her sweat and her excitement — without haste like usual, he takes his time in mapping her body like he was always supposed to. There isn't a part of her that isn't uncharted by his mouth; he takes her in, breathes her out, and spends time learning every single story behind every single scar.

In the morning he watches her at the vanity again, except this time she watches him right back.

(he might not be able to say it, but she can still read his mind so it doesn't matter anyway, does it?)

"Thank you," is all she says as she fixes her necklace.

And that is all he needs.


End file.
